


Escape from Mirrah

by lynol



Category: Dark Souls II
Genre: M/M, bottom p8 n top cr8, dunno if there r horses but this whole stuff is uncannon already so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 03:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynol/pseuds/lynol
Summary: The two met each other in the capital of Mirrah.





	Escape from Mirrah

Bad luck.

  
Pate came to the capital of Mirrah, looking forward to robbing some wealthy knights and tourists who came for the fountain, but so far he had only stolen from a few impoverished fellows. The man last night was even worse: not only did he have poor skills in bed, but also very few coins to be found after he was drugged. (Pate wondered if the rich-looking young man he targeted on the street had been replaced.) Pate was just a little fledgling thief back then so he wasn’t clever enough, and found himself surrounded by men called out by his victim last night.

  
He put on a bitter smile and spoke politely. “There must be some misunderstanding here --" he hadn't finished talking when he was slapped in the face.

  
"Shut the fuck up, don't give me that shit again.” The victim stared at him in distaste. “I’ve had enough of your smooth talk.”

  
"Calm down,” another guy stopped the man and said, "This brat can reach a high price on the black market. Don't ruin his face."

  
_Black market? This isn’t good._ He had to find a way to escape. But not now, he would see how the situation developed and go for the right shot. The big guy behind him, who had buckled his wrist and fixed it firmly behind him, said faintly: “Hey, you told us we can have some fun first."

  
The victim reluctantly released his clenched fist, “Yeah, right.” Then he waved his hand. “Do whatever you like. He’s quite talented, to be honest.”

  
_Oh, this is very bad._

  
*

  
Creighton lingered in the streets of the night.

  
Sometimes when night fell, he could no longer restrain himself. He picked up his axe and went out to find creatures on which to sharpen its blade. He had heard of some guards trying to find out the murderer, but he didn’t know much and didn’t care either. He couldn’t stop himself.

  
When he rounded the corner, he seemed as if he had seen the most horrible beast climbing out from the darkness. He froze and he couldn't move a muscle. He could do nothing but quietly stare: the sound of flesh colliding, the lust-filled air, swaying shadows, and men's vulgar slang.

  
He fell into his childhood; his body shrank so small; the flames of war raging across the land; enemies breaking into what was supposed to be safe and warm. His father tried to resist, but what could an ordinary farmer do? He couldn't even remember his father's face, but he remembered the torn corpse soaked in a pool of blood. And his --

  
"Mom…”

  
Oh, he was so tiny, so pathetic, his hands shaking, and he couldn’t even wield the hand axe left by his father. On countless nights during his growth, he was forced to fall back to that one day, helplessly watching his mother tormented and killed, and he, oh he hoped they could kill him, but no, they just laughed at his incompetence, pushed him aside and set the house on fire.

  
When he woke from the deep memory, he was already panting, blood and gore covering his body, and his eyes looked straight into another pair of eyes filled with a combination of fear and admiration.

  
Beautiful. That was the first thing that came across his mind when he saw those eyes.

  
Then he grew confused.

  
"Who are you?" he asked. "I thought you were…” He lowered his eyes. Who did he think was in front of him? How could he forget in just a blink?

  
Pate accepted the situation far more readily.. Grateful he was no longer being gang raped in a dark alley, not even the scraps of flesh scattered on the ground could bother him. He put on his best modest and courteous attitude.

  
"Hello, you must have mistaken me for someone else, but I must say that this neat skill of slaying is really admirable."

  
Creighton tilted his head and squinted at the person who spoke. The man's clothes were untidy, his bare skin was stained with dirt, and his black short hair was messy. He looked awful, but Creighton liked his face; and voice too.

  
"You are no woman," he said, a little puzzled, so he turned his back and thought about it.

  
"Disappointed?" Pate managed to climb to his feet and sort out his manners. Despite what was done to him, he still performed so elegantly, so calmly. He looked at the killer, but Creighton had slowly walked away already.

  
“Is my blade honed enough?" Creighton seemed to have forgotten what had just happened, dragging his weapon and wandering aimlessly, muttering.

  
Pate followed and gently tapped his shoulder.

  
Creighton was shocked and turned abruptly to look at him. His blue eyes grew big.

  
"Huh? Who are you?” He stared at Pate for a while and his expression turned to relieved recognition. "Oh, it’s you." Then he turned confused again, "Who are you?"

  
Silver-white shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, and a few scars across the seemingly young but weathered face, and this exaggerated reaction while shocked. If he wasn’t a horrible murderer being able to kill so many tough guys in seconds, Pate would probably admit that he was quite attractive.

  
"My name is Pate.”

  
"Creighton." The blue eyes looked at him sincerely.

  
_Ah, alright. He is quite attractive._

  
*

  
This romantic encounter didn’t last long; the guards caught Creighton after tracking the trail of blood. Perhaps he delayed his time to clean up the crime as usual because of Pate (Well, even heroes fall for beauties, huh?). Pate was taken back as an accomplice, but it was clear he'd been a hostage so they immediately ruled out his guilt.

Pate wasn’t worried that he might go to the prison as well. He'd had plenty experiences already; with such a smooth tongue, he had been able to live in comfort in such places; anything he wanted would be smuggled into his hands. The most memorable time was once when he managed to juggle both the warden and the leader of prisoners. The two men were so jealous; the conflict became more and more fierce and eventually led to a riot. He took advantage of the chaos and broke the jail with a group of unobtrusive prisoners once he decided he had enough of the pleasures to be had there.

  
But he didn't plan to take another leisurely vacation in prison this time. His savior (being a mentally ill murderer unfortunately) was sentenced to death, and he had to keep free to get him out. Pate was not the type to return favors. For vague reasons which he himself couldn’t understand, he just wanted to get Creighton out. Perhaps he believed that doing this would prove only beneficial; perhaps he saw Creighton as a potential asset since he had such remarkable skills.

  
Or perhaps he simply considered it fun.

  
Pate convinced the jailers to join him for “a pleasant night;” drugging them, looting the keys, and passing through a bunch of poor fellows who reached out from behind the iron railings and pleaded for their rescue. Then he reached the cell where Creighton was held.

  
Creighton was napping and was awoken by the sound of the cell being unlocked. He looked up at the unexpected guest. Not a jailer, he was the one, the guy…Creighton recalled his eyes and his messy appearance.

  
"Oh, it’s you again…” Creighton groped around in his chaotic mind for a long time before he recalled the name: "Pate."

  
*

  
Pate found an unlawful blacksmith in a dim corner of the city and bought an ugly (according to Pate) mask for Creighton. Then he stole two horses for them to ride out of town. When they saw the station miles away, they dismounted, removed the equipment, sent the horses to the wilderness, and told the shopkeeper that they were robbed, that they needed a room and a pair of new horses. The owner glanced at Clayton's mask with suspicion. Pate explained that he was a severely burned patient. "A glance at his face will grant you terrible nightmares.” They repeated the same pattern several times until Pate was certain that they were no longer tracked by the guards, at which point they had reached the edge of Mirrah.

  
They stayed overnight at the tavern on the border. For the first time they felt at ease for losing their hunters. The two boiled some water and took a leisurely hot bath by turns in the cramped old tub. Pate insisted that Creighton take the bath first (because he smelled like a slaughterhouse), so when Pate walked into the room with his top undone and water dripping from his hair, Creighton had already put on new clothes, looking at him from the bed.

  
Those blue eyes traveled along with the movements of his hands, from the dripping hair to his broad chest and then to the narrow waist — Pate knew exactly what kind of look that was; he was too familiar with it. He kept smiling, and waited.

  
"You are no woman." Creighton said.

  
Ah, still struggling with this? "Obviously not."

  
"Then why were they…?” Creighton turned his eyes away to the corner of the bed. "Why am I…?”

  
Oh. Being such a sinful man condemned to death, yet he is so naive, so innocent, with respect to lust. So adorable. Pate had the urge to devour him, to consume him whole, so he climbed onto the bed and sat astride him.

  
Creighton didn't resist, but he didn't dare to look at Pate either, turning his head away.

  
Pate held his face and kissed him on the lips. At first it was slight, soft, and growing long, lingering. Breaths and sighs escaped between the kisses.

  
Pate guided Creighton into him, then he panted and moaned with hands holding Creighton’s neck. They fit with each other much more than Pate expected. Despite his lack of experience, Creighton had performed a lot better than a bunch of men. Pate recalled a few experiences and immediately felt sad for both himself and those fellows.

  
A strange sense of belonging hit him when he glanced at Creighton’s sleeping face, but he didn't dare to think too much before he too fell asleep.

  
*

  
"Where are you going next?" Pate asked after they crossed the border.

  
Creighton shrugged as if he didn't care where they were going.

  
Pate laughed. "You are not going to follow me everywhere, are you?“

  
“Where else can I go, mate?” Creighton said, “Don't leave me. Not like this.”

  
Oops, he seemed to be a very clingy type. Why did he bring such a trouble along in the first place? "It is very dangerous to be so trusting these days. You don't even know what kind of person I am."

  
"What kind? You helped me out," Creighton replied as if this was a stupid question. "I trust you."

  
Those words were like a spear piercing into Pate’s heart. Now he remembered why he broke this idiot out of prison. Indeed, Creighton knew how to fight, was good looking, and was quite cooperative in bed. Oh well, and out of bed too. Together the two of them could steal the treasures of the world.

  
But he was not a committed person, had never held a relationship or friendship for more than a year or two. He wasn’t sure if anything would be different this time; he would rather believe in his own deep-rooted dissoluteness.

  
Sooner or later, they would drift apart, in a painful and troublesome process. If he wasn’t cautious enough he might even lose his life. He could see Creighton covered in his blood, staring at his fractured body with hatred born out of love. He could even imagine him hissing, “It’s all your fault. To leave me first.” Dangerous, too dangerous.

  
_Isn't this fascinating?_ he couldn't help but smirk. _If Creighton wants to follow, then so be it._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Fuzzy, Lily and Georgia for helping me correct the English translating version. 
> 
> I saw on DS wiki that Pate might come from Mirrah as well since he's Creighton's former partner, and I also saw someone commented that Creighton is too dumb to escape from the prison, so I go and work this fic out.  
> In this story, Pate learnt how to fight due to both his attempting to protect themselves and also his fear that Creighton would try to kill him one day.
> 
> I feel very shy to reread my own fic days after it's finished lol! Hope you enjoy it!


End file.
